


Hero for Hire

by delicatelyherdreams



Category: Captain America (Movies), MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyherdreams/pseuds/delicatelyherdreams
Summary: Tired of constantly being sat on the sidelines for missions, Bucky decides that he’s going to do his own hero work and offer his services to the public as a freelance “hero for hire.” He expects to be asked to rescue cats from trees or help little old ladies cross the street, but he doesn’t expect to get tangled up in your life. He definitely doesn’t expect to fall for you either. But, when you’re a hero for hire, you’ve gotta see the mission through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mild Language. 
> 
> Word Count: 1144

Bucky was tired of being on unofficial house arrest. He was tired of sitting around doing nothing while Steve and the others were out on Avengers missions. He was tired of missing all the action and excitement that came with the thrill of being in the field. He was tired of feeling  _ useless _ .

He hated drifting around the Avengers compound while his friends were out there risking their lives to make the world a better place. He hated not being able to do anything.

“You need a break, Buck,” Steve had insisted. “After everything that’s happened to you, you deserve some time off from hero work.”

Steve was right about one thing: Bucky did need a break, but he needed a break from being the bad guy. He knew that he could never erase the evil he did and the pain he caused, but he figured that, if he could at least do some good in his life, he could atone for some of his sins.

Being stuck on the sidelines was not the way to do that, but Steve and the others wouldn’t listen to his pleas to let him help. They were all too afraid he’d relapse. 

Nearly a year without incident, the Winter Soldier had stayed at bay. Bucky had done the mental exercises, he’d done the therapy, he’d done every single stupid self-help technique that Steve and the others had told him to do, and yet it wasn’t enough to release him from light duty.

It was utter bullshit and he hated it. He needed out. He needed to get out of the compound and actually do something; actually help somebody.

He just needed to figure out how to do it.

———

“You going to be okay here on your own, Buck?”

Bucky just barely glanced up at the voice addressing him. He didn’t need long to know that it was Steve standing over him, decked out in his stealth suit. He shrugged his shoulders passively. “Yeah. I’ll read the newspaper, see what’s new, catch up on some movies, and just sit here like always.” He couldn’t mask the malice in his voice, but at this point he didn’t care. This conversation had practically become routine for him over the past months.

Steve kept his face neutral. He knew his friend was just aching to leave, but he didn’t want to take any risks. “We’ll be back by the end of the week. FRIDAY is here if you need anything. Tony says you can order all the delivery you want.”

Bucky had to hold back a scoff. Ever since the misunderstanding in Siberia, Tony had almost tried to suck up to the former Winter Soldier, always offering to buy him his favorite foods or get him anything he wanted. Bucky appreciated the gestures of goodwill, but he had to admit that it was getting old. Instead he just nodded. “Right. Thanks for the memo.”

Steve’s shoulders fell at Bucky’s tone. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’s for the best. You can come with us next time.”

Bucky didn’t think he should remind Steve that “You can come with us next time” was exactly what he had said the  _ last  _ time they were leaving for a mission. And here they were: it was “next time” and he was being benched, again. He glanced up at Steve. “Sure,” he mumbled. “Next time…” He took a sip of water from the glass that was sitting on the counter in front of him.

Steve spared him one last look. “One week,” he mumbled as he turned his back and exited the kitchen, leaving Bucky to his lonesome.

Bucky let out a breath as he was left alone. He could hear the jet on the roof roaring to life as the team departed for their mission.

The compound was plunged into silence as the aircraft flew away. 

He sighed as he reached for the newspaper that was lying just feet away from his hands on the counter. 

He stared at the black and white words and colored pictures on the front page blankly. It was old news that was being displayed for the third time that week, detailing the most recent feat of the Avengers taking down a HYDRA base in Massachusetts. He was bored with reading about their missions and so he flipped ahead, landing haphazardly on the advertising page. 

His eyes scanned over all the business cards and logos printed, tracing their shapes in an attempt to amuse himself. But it was only when his eyes strayed across one particular space that his interest was piqued. No company’s ad lay there, but it was instead a free space displaying the words “YOUR AD HERE.”

Reading over the words, an idea popped into his mind. He could feel the gears turning quickly as they hammered out the details. 

Your ad here…

His ad there…

A hero needing to be given work…

A hero needing hiring…

A hero for hire…

A devious grin split his lips. He could do hero work without going out on missions with the Avengers. He could do his own missions for the locals. 

All he had to do was put an ad in the paper. It was as simple as that. 

Later that day he found himself down at the offices of the New York Times, filling out an advertisement form so his ad would be printed in the next issues of the paper’s print edition.

He was allowed four lines with fifty characters on each. It wasn’t much room, but it was something. So, he quickly jotted down his ad and turned it in. 

“Bucky Barnes: Hero for hire

“For the low, low rate of $50 dollars a job

“I will be your hero, just give me a call 

“If interested, call 212-XXX-XXXX” 

Hopefully it would be enough to draw in a few “customers.” He submitted the form and decided to sit back and hope for the best.

Bucky wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but he had a general idea. He was expecting to get one or two calls a week after placing the ad or no calls at all, but he definitely wasn’t expecting his phone to ring late the very next day with an unknown number.

He had been sleeping when the loud rings aroused him from his slumber minutes before midnight. He eyed the phone warily. There was no way someone needed this soon and this late at night. The likelihood was minuscule. But he wasn’t sure. There was a chance that this was just a prank, and he was tempted to let it ring, but something in the back of his head nagged him to answer the phone. 

So, with a lethargic groan, he pressed the “Accept Call” button and held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: stalking; threatening figure; nightmares  
> Word Count: 3534

You were being watched. Every second of everyday there was someone there, keeping a close eye on you. Never once did the unrelenting gaze cease. But this was to be expected when you had a stalker.

Shivers crept down the back of your neck as you walked down the street; a tell tale sign that he was somewhere in your immediate vicinity. Your grip on your jacket tightened. 

He wouldn’t approach you, not with so many people around you. You were thankful for the busy bustle of Manhattan and its ability to be your shield, but you knew that the second you deviated out of the crowds, he’d be there.

You clenched your jaw as you glanced over your shoulder.

Sure enough, he was there, following you at such a distance that anyone who didn’t know you and your relationship with him wouldn’t even know that anything could be wrong. But you knew.

You knew that Damien, your ex, was persistent and didn’t know the meaning of “no” and “get lost.” You knew that he was still as infatuated with you as he had been when you were dating and you knew that he had, to put it plainly, an unhealthy obsession with you. And you knew that this obsession is what drove him to stalking.

He knew your address, he knew your number, he knew your daily routine, and he abused his knowledge to follow you around every waking second of the day.

It was, without a doubt, stalking, but it wasn’t severe enough that you’d be able to call the cops on him. He didn’t threaten you or leave anything that could be deemed a threat, both of of which made this a hell of a lot harder on you. 

Not being able to go to the authorities forced you into a situation in which you had to do everything yourself so you confronted him to try and deter him from his obsessive ways. But no matter how many times you’d confronted him about it, he refused to go away.

“You belong with me,” he’d say. No matter that you’d broken up with him two months ago; you still “belonged” with him even now. He wouldn’t let you forget that.

You made a sharp turn in front of a group of people down another busy street. You did your best to meld into the crowd seamlessly so that you could throw him off your trail. Almost instantly, that feeling of being watched dissipated; you had lost him.

You let loose a breath you were well aware of holding and pushed on. You only had about two blocks before you reached your apartment. You were so close. 

But that didn’t mean that fate was on your side. 

As you made the final turn towards your apartment building, you stopped at the sight of a painfully familiar figure loitering by the front door.

Damien stood there, his back against the brick wall of the building with a cigarette perched between his lips and his eyes hooded lazily. Of course he’d be here. You should’ve known that he’d come here to wait for you the second he lost sight of your figure. 

You wanted to scream out of frustration. You didn’t know how much more of his stalking you could take. It was draining trying to avoid him and right now it was flat out impossible. He was right at the entrance of your building and you had to get home somehow. You’d use the fire escape if you could, but the window to your apartment was locked and, if she was on schedule, your roommate Joyce was still at the hospital on her shift and not able to let you in. The only way to get home was to walk right past Damien. 

You ducked your head as you joined a small but steady stream of people entering the building. You hoped to make it in unnoticed, but, again, fate was not on your side.

“(y/n)! Hey, (y/n)!”

You flinched at the sound of his deep and gruff voice as it formed your name. You wanted to run, but he had metaphorically caught you now. So, you took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Damien,” you greeted cordially.

He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out the side of his mouth. “You haven’t been answering my calls,” he said. His voice was low as he spoke.

_ I blocked your number you psycho. _

“Y-Yeah. I broke my phone the other day and, well, I’m not obligated to pick up the phone for anyone, least of all you,” you stated as you tried to stay firm and still under his piercing gaze.

He made a “hmph” noise in the back of his throat. “I worry about you, (y/n). That’s why I call. Is that so bad?”

You frowned. “It is when we haven’t been together in months. I’m not your girlfriend anymore, Day. You have no reason to call me anymore.” You moved away from him and pushed the door to your building open.

He followed you in. “I care about you, (y/n), and I want to make sure you’re okay. That’s not a crime.”

You moved your body in front of the keypad as you typed in the entry code so he couldn’t see. If anything was your saving grace, it was this gate that kept out nonresidents from reaching the apartments. The pad buzzed as the lock slid back and you quickly slipped through it, quick to shut the gate behind you. “No, but, Damien, give it up. We broke up two months ago. You need to move on.”

His face hardened as he leaned forward against the gate. “I can’t. Don’t you see, (y/n)? I love you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t love me; you love the idea of me. Now, please. Just go away and let me live my life. I’m tired of this.”

He shook his head, resolve clear on his face. “No. You’ll see it; you’ll see that we belong together. I know you will.” He pushed off the gate and swept his black hair away from his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dearie.”

His promise lingered in the air as he spared you one last grin and walked out of the building, leaving you behind with quivering legs and a pounding heart.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves as you turned your back on his retreating form and walked towards the elevator. The doors slid open as soon as you summoned it and you stepped in. Pressing the button for the fifth floor, you rested your back against the walls of the elevator and heaved a sigh as the doors slid shut. You closed your eyes and bit your lip. 

He couldn’t get to you here. You were safe. You’d have a few hours to yourself before Joyce got home and you could use that time to unwind from your day at work, maybe get some house cleaning done and relax with Netflix.

You hummed. That sounded really nice.

The elevator slowed to a stop and dinged as the doors slid open to let you out on your floor.

You scampered out of the elevator and dashed down to the third door on the right. You fished your keys out of your jacket pocket and quickly inserted the house key into the lock. With a small click, the door swung open and you walked in.

You were instantly met with a small chirp as your orange tabby cat ran to the door to greet you. A smile crept across your face. “Carrot!”

He stopped at your feet and butted his head against your legs, meowing and demanding attention like the needy little kitty he was.

You chuckled as you shut the door and shrugged off your jacket to bend down to meet him. “Heya, boy. Did you miss me?” You held out your hand.

He lifted his head so it was being cupped in your palm and meowed again.

You complied and began to scratch him between the ears.

Carrot was yours and Joyce’s kitty. At four and a half years old, he’d been with you guys ever since you’d rescued him from the animal shelter when you moved into the apartment two years ago. He, aside from Joyce, was one of the only constants in your life and you loved him with all your heart. You think he loves you too; he sure screams at you enough to show that he loves you (or your food, which ever worked for him). At the very least, he definitely preferred to sleep on your bed rather than Joyce’s.

Carrot purred under your touch, clearly content with the situation.

“Kitty, I want to pet you, but first I have to get out of these clothes. M’kay?” you mused as you took your hand away from his head and stood.

He screamed in protest as he tried to jump up to retrieve your hand, but you were already walking through the apartment to your room.

It was short walk. Although your apartment had two bedrooms, the common area was quite small; composed of a living room/entryway combo that was separated from a small kitchen by an island, it didn’t take long to cross the floor to reach your bedroom door. You pushed open the door and walked into the quaint room.

The room itself was sort of small with just barely enough room for your full size bed, dresser and small vanity. The walls were a nice pale yellow color that helped make a soft atmosphere when the light streamed in through the curtains just right. A large portion of the wall above your dresser had been covered with pictures and Polaroids of you and Joyce along with some of your other friends from college and a couple photos of your family to create a nice collage. A small succulent plant rested on your window sill and some books sat down on the surface of your dresser. It wasn’t much, but it was just right for you.

You let Carrot sneak into the room before closing the door behind you so you could change without accidentally flashing Joyce if she came home early and padded over to your dresser. You pulled open one of the drawers to retrieve a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Taking a deep breath, you peeled out of your work uniform and quickly slid into your comfy clothes.

Some time during your changing, you heard the front door open and shut. Joyce must be home. 

Your suspicions were confirmed when she called from the living room, “Hey (y/n)! I’m gonna order pizza for dinner if that’s alright with you!”

“Yeah that’s fine!” you shouted back. You turned to your mirror and grabbed a hair tie. “Hey, did you get the mail?” You pulled your hair back and began to tie it up into a messy bun. When you were satisfied with it, you exited your room to meet up with Joyce in the common area.

She was sitting at the island on one of its bar stools. She was still wearing her hospital scrubs and had her hair tied back. She must have not had time to change out before leaving.

She jerked her head towards a small pile on the counter. “Yeah. You’ve got quite a bit of fan mail,” she muttered as if the words were vile on her tongue. 

You immediately knew what she was talking about and you marched over to the mail pile.

Sitting on top, in loopy handwriting that only could belong to the person you never wanted to hear from again, was an envelope addressed to you, “My dearest (y/n).” You scooped up the letters and dumped them into the garbage with a sigh. “He just won’t give up…” you muttered.

Joyce looked up at you with sympathetic eyes. If anybody understood your situation, it was her. She’d been with you from the beginning of college and was there when you and Damien had first started going out at the end of your senior year. She’d been the first to see the warning signs that he was obsessive and, in a way, emotionally abusive. She bore witness to the events that led to your break up: the screaming, the crying, the possessiveness he exerted, and the control he tried to take over your life. She was the one who, two months ago after you had come home to the apartment in tears over a fight the two of you had just had, encouraged you to end the year long relationship because it was toxic and damaging. And all through the shit that has followed, she’s stayed by your side and done her best to keep you away from him as much as possible. You were eternally grateful for her and all she’d done for you over the years that you had known each other.

She pressed her lips together. “(y/n)…”

You shook your head. “Don’t. I don’t want to think about him.”

“(y/n),” she said again. “This needs to stop.  _ He  _ needs to stop.”

“Dammit, Joy, I know. But I can’t make him and he doesn’t do anything substantial enough to warrant his arrest. Cops don’t just go around arresting people for ‘coincidentally’ being in the same place as others or sending mail, especially if there’s nothing bad in the mail,” you rambled, your voice rising in volume with each word. “I’m stuck!”

Joyce stood up and walked over to you. Resting her hand on your upper back, she began to rub small circles on your clothed skin. “(y/n), I was reading the paper this morning and I saw an ad—”

“An ad?” you scoffed. “What’s an ad got to do with—”

“Shut up and let me speak,” she said cutting you off with a grin. “Anyways, I saw this ad and I think this guy can really help you.” She pulled away from you and retrieved this morning’s paper from the island. 

The advertising page was visible to you and your eyes briefly scanning it over. Your eyes were drawn to a small box that had been vigorously circled with red maker.

Joyce held it out to you. “Here. Read this.”

You took the paper and read the box, the frown on your face deepening with every word that passed through your mind.

“Bucky Barnes: Hero for hire

“For the low, low rate of $50 dollars a job

“I will be your hero, just give me a call 

“If interested, call 212-XXX-XXXX” 

You looked up and deadpanned at her. “Joy, this is a scam.” You tossed the paper onto the island counter.

“No it’s not! I looked this guy up, he’s legit!” She moved to get in front of you into your direct line of sight. “You know Captain America? Well this guy’s his best friend. Bucky Barnes, the Howling-Commando-turned-Winter-Soldier we learned about in our U.S. History class, remember?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “There is no way that the James Buchanan Barnes placed a stupid ad in the paper as a ‘hero for hire’ charging only fifty dollars a job. This is some guy trying to get a quick buck out of unsuspecting victims needing help.”

“I don’t think so, (y/n). Please, just give this guy a chance,” she begged. “He could be the answer to all your problems. Just call him and see.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not about to invite this guy into my life like this. It’s stupid and I’m not going to do it.”

Her face visibly fell as she bit her lip again. “I can’t force you to, but I’d like you to consider it. Don’t discard this Bucky guy just yet. Okay?”

You sighed. “Only to appease you, I will say ‘okay.’ But!” you said stopping her premature celebration. “Chances are I won’t call him. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“So long as you’re considering it, that’s good enough for me.” She spared you a weak smile before walking away from you to the phone mounted on the wall by the kitchen. “Moving on… You want your usual?” she asked as she began to dial the number for the Domino’s down the street. You found it amusing that she knew their number by heart but could barely remember her own.

You nodded. “Yes please.”

She bobbed her head in response and began to place your order.

———

_ “Get back here right now!” _

_ “No! Stay away from me!”  _

_ You had to get away. You had to run.  _

_ He was getting closer. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck. _

_ “(y/n),” cooed his voice, sickly sweet but threatening. “Come here, Dearie. I’m sorry for the things I said. Come back to me.” _

_ You turned another corner in the dark, running as fast as your legs would take you. _

Get away. Get away. Get away!

_ Laughter echoed around you as mist curled in front of your eyes. A figure took a single step out to reveal himself and your stomach dropped. _

_ It was Damien, his near-black eyes boring deep into your skull. A smile twisted his features gruesomely as he looked at you. “(y/n)… My (y/n)… Come back to me,” he taunted and he held his arms out wide, beckoning you into his embrace. _

_ You stumbled back away from him. “Stay away!” _

_ “I’ll always be here, (y/n). You can’t get rid of me. You love me.” _

_ You shook your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “No I don’t! Please just leave me alone!” _

_ He took long strides towards you. _

_ You wanted to run away but your feet were glued to the spot. _

_ Within seconds he was at your side. “You’re mine,” he whispered into your ear before he closed his arms around you, trapping you for all eternity. _

———

You sat up panting and gasping for breath as you furiously took in your surroundings. Where was he? What was going on?

The room was dark save for the flickering blue light coming from the television. The small hum of the actor’s voices were the only sound you could hear.

There was no screaming, no running, no Damien.

…It had been a dream.

You glanced around. 

Joyce was passed out on the couch next to you, an empty plate resting on her chest and a small line of drool escaping the side of her mouth. Carrot sat on the couch’s arm right next to her head, also fast asleep. The coffee table was littered with an empty pizza box and half full cups of coke that were left over from your dinner.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you bent forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

Even in your dreams, Damien still haunted you. This was getting to be too much. You were at your limit. You couldn’t do it anymore.

You pushed yourself up off the couch and padded over to the kitchen, silently so as to not disturb Joyce’s sleep. Retrieving a glass from the cabinet, you turned on the tap and drew some water. Maybe a drink would help you clear your head. As you waited for it to fill up, your eyes darted towards the clock that hung above the wall.

“11:57″ it read.

You bit your lip. Not even asleep for three hours and the nightmare had woken you up.

You were okay with Damien and his stalking taking over your day, but now it was infecting the one place you had been safe: your sleep and dreams. He’d crossed a line with this now. 

You turned off the water and lifted the glass to your lips as you turned to look out at the rest of the apartment. 

This madness had to end. It just had to. You didn’t know how much longer you would last like this.

You’d need a freaking miracle to get this all to stop. You’d need a hero.

You stopped short.

A hero.

A hero for hire…

The paper was still sitting on the counter where you had thrown it earlier that night, taunting you with its black and white text and red markings. It was practically screaming your name.

_ “(y/n)… (y/n)… You need this. Just dial the number…” _

You stared at the ad again, your chest heaving.

“If interested, call 212-XXX-XXXX.”

Your hand was on your cell phone and your fingers were tapping the buttons before you could stop them, and seconds later you were holding up the phone to your ear. The dial tone was deafening in the silence of your apartment and you held your breath as you let it ring.

About halfway through the second ring, you realized just how stupid this probably was. It was late at night, you were an unknown number, why the hell would this “Bucky” answer the phone. 

You shook your head, ready to end the call when it the ringing stopped and a husky voice, thick with sleep, answered with, “Hello?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language  
> Word Count: 3893

“Hello?”

You could feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

Oh shit, he actually answered. What the hell were you going to say to him? You didn’t think this far ahead. 

You stood there in the silence, petrified.

“Hang up the phone!” your inner thoughts screamed at you as they ran around frantically trying to come up with coherent sentences.

You were tempted to obey them, but you couldn’t move.

“Hello?” the voice asked again, a little more awake.

It took you a few more seconds to actually speak words, but when you finally found your voice, it came out in a pathetic whimper. “Bucky?”

The sound of covers rustling on the other end echoed in the phone and Bucky answered with, “Yeah? I’m here. What’s going on?”

His voice was so concerned and, in a way, it touched you. The way he asked you what was going on was so sincere and genuine, almost as if he was worried for you.

But then again, you’d be worried for you too if you called in the dead of the night and only squeaked one word desperately which was your name. God, how stupid you must have been.

“I-I saw your ad in the paper,” you started slowly, trying to form your thoughts before giving them voice. “I-I wasn’t going to call, but Joyce said I should and I just couldn’t…” You cut yourself short.

You couldn’t what? Couldn’t help yourself? Couldn’t deal with the pressure and stress any more? You didn’t know.

“Slow down. You’re okay, I’m here now,” he said reassuringly. “Now why don’t we start from the beginning. Yeah?”

You breathed a “yeah” in response.

“Good. What’s your name, doll?” He was wide awake now; you could hear it in his voice. You felt a little bad for waking him up like this but, at the same time, it was comforting to hear his voice.

You carried your cell phone from the kitchen to your bedroom, quietly shutting the door so as to not wake Joyce. “(y/n),” you said quietly.

“(y/n),” he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease. “Tell me what’s going on, (y/n).”

“I-I just can’t do it anymore,” you choked out. “He’s everywhere and he won’t leave me alone and I can’t make him and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I can help you. Who’s everywhere?”

“My ex, Damien. I-I broke up with him a few months ago but he just won’t leave me alone and always follows me. I can’t go to the police and I thought I could handle it, but I just can’t, Bucky. Please. I need your help.” Admitting that you needed help did two things for you: it lifted a small weight off your shoulders at the thought of finally taking steps to be free, but it also drove you to tears as the crushing severity of your situation dawned on you. Biting your lip, you looked up at the ceiling as you tried hard not to lose it.

He went silent for a few moments as if he was writing something down. “It’s alright, doll. Sometimes even the strongest people need help.” He took a deep breath. “Listen to me, (y/n). It’s late, and I can tell by your voice you’re a little frazzled and tired. The best thing for you to do right now is go to sleep. Okay?”

Your heart sank. Was he brushing your problem off? Was he not going to help you? You opened your mouth to respond but at that moment he started to speak again.

“Tomorrow I can meet up with you to discuss our plan of action. Is there any specific place or time you’d like to meet?”

You blanked. “Uh… I…”

_ Think (y/n), _ you scolded yourself.

“I have a later shift at work tomorrow. I’ll be getting off around ten…”

He hummed. “That’s fine. Would you like me to meet you at your workplace or would you rather go somewhere more public?”

You bit your lip. “No, my work should work, if that’s okay for you.”

“It’s fine, (y/n). I will go wherever you need me to go.” You could hear the smile in his voice and you found yourself smiling right along with him.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s my pleasure. Now, where do you work?”

You rattled off the address to him eliciting the sound of a pencil scratching on paper.

“Great,” he mused as he finished copying it down. “You said your shift gets over around ten?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there at ten-on-the-dot, then.” He took a deep breath. “Try to get some sleep tonight, (y/n). Your problems are almost over. I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip. “Thank you so, so much.”

“There’s no need to thank me; it’s what heroes do.”

You could hear the smile in his voice and you found yourself grinning right alongside him.

“Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

You nodded to no one. “Okay. I will. But, Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

You took a deep breath. “Really, thank you.”

He breathed a laugh. “It’s no problem. Good night, (y/n).”

“Good night, Buck.”

———

The Chez Moi was an elite, high class restaurant. The patrons wore suits and floor length dresses and the staff was expected to be well behaved and polite and well dressed. Your uniform consisted of a pristine, white button up blouse with the restaurant’s name embroidered in fancy script above your heart, your choice of black slacks or a black pencil skirt, and a black apron that sat on your hips.

Only the rich and fancy dined there, you just worked there. But boy were you glad you did. Although the salary itself was terrible, it was compensated by the tenfold by the obscenely large tips left by the guests. Seriously, they were way too generous with how much money they gifted you some nights. One guest had even left you a one-hundred dollar bill as your tip and it was insane.

Like your apartment, your workplace was another sanctuary of yours. Damien could never afford to eat there and was a member of the “Do not Serve” list that was given to the hosts and hostesses. He was always turned away at the door and could not get in.

This was also a reason you were comfortable with meeting Bucky there; anywhere else and you’d risk Damien approaching you and him before you had the time to come up with a game plan for how to deal with him. 

You were on edge the entirety of your shift as you thought about your meeting. You knew you shouldn’t be nervous for it, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Joyce had been utterly ecstatic when you told her that morning that you had given him a call. To her, this was a step in the right direction towards getting help. For you, this was an extreme leap of faith.

You’d done research on this Bucky Barnes before coming to work. From the internet, you gathered that, if he was who he said he was, you wouldn’t be able to miss him. The ex-HYDRA assassin, previously known as the Winter Soldier, had been taken in by the Avengers, absolved for his crimes, and rehabilitated in order to join society. His most distinguishing features included his resting murder face and an impressive metal prosthetic that served as his left arm. Those things alone would make him incredibly recognizable. You were a little nervous to meet him, to say the least. He was a member of the  _ Avengers  _ for Christ’s sake, and he was coming here to help you with your menial problem. You knew he had better things to do, and yet…

You took a deep breath as you cleared the next table, scooping up the tip and sliding it into one of your apron pockets.

“You alright, (y/n)?” 

Your head snapped up and your eyes came in contact with a pale face framed by curly blonde hair. You cracked a small smile. “Yeah, Michael. Just a little nervous.”

Michael, a friend of yours and fellow waiter at Chez Moi, tilted his head. “Nervous? What for?”

You shook your head dismissively. “Oh, I’m just meeting someone after my shift.”

“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow suggestively. “Someone? Like for a date?”

You chuckled. “No, he’s coming to help me with something. You know I don’t date, Mikey.”

He shrugged. “One can hope.” He hummed. “Your shift gets over here in a few minutes. Do you want me to take over the rest of your tables so you can get ready?”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Would you? I’d be so grateful and you can have all the tips from the tables.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll save them for you.”

“Are you sure? I swear, it doesn’t bother me.” You felt bad for taking the tips he would otherwise get to keep for himself.

He nodded. “Yes. You don’t have to worry about it. Now get! Go on, get out of here.” He shooed you away with his hands.

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. You’re so bossy,” you said with a smile. But, obeying him, you turned on your heel and walked out of the main dining area to grab your things from the workers’ room. You pushed through the doors and marched promptly to your locker. Spinning the combo to unlock your locker, you pulled open its door and pulled out your jacket. You had no need to carry a purse with you to and from work; your apron and jacket pockets were more than efficient enough to hold your phone and wallet which, really, were the only things you needed.

You shrugged on the jacket and closed your locker before walking back out into the main dining area. You made a quick beeline towards the host’s station where Lily, another one of your coworkers, was flipping through the reservation book. “Hey, Lils,” you greeted. “Has any guy come in here asking for me? His name should be ‘Bucky Barnes?’”

She glanced up at you and nodded. “Barnes? Yeah, I sat him down at table sixteen.”

You nodded. “Thank you.” Without waiting for her acknowledgement, you turned around and plunged into the dining room.

Table sixteen… Table sixteen…

Table sixteen sat in the back of the restaurant away from the doors and prying eyes, just the sort of space you needed to talk to this guy.

You slowed when you saw him, taking in the figure of your hero. 

He was a large and muscular man, that much was clear as he sat hunched over the table. His dark, chocolate brown hair hung low around his cheeks and shielded his eyes from your view. He was wearing a leather jacket and a baseball cap and was looking extremely uncomfortable as he was surrounded by all the high class customers around him. You couldn’t blame him; some days you felt out of place too. He was fidgeting nervously, wringing his gloved hands together over and over again.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and slowly approached him. As you came up to his table, you stopped. “Bucky?” you called out, a hint of caution in your voice.

His head snapped up and you were captivated by the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen, that of which stole your breath from your lungs. Immediately, a small smile crossed his lips. “(y/n)?” At your nod, the smile grew wider. “It’s good to have a face to finally fit the name. Please, sit.”

You didn’t hesitate to take your seat. You were eager to get this thing started so you could get it over with. 

Once you were seated and comfortable, he gave you a once over. “Okay, so tell me what’s going on. You mentioned last night that someone—your ex, I believe—was everywhere? Can you tell me more about that?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. So Damien, my now-ex-boyfriend, and I started going out at the end of our senior year of college, but it wasn’t a healthy relationship now that I look back on it. He was possessive and obsessive and if he didn’t know where I was at all times, he’d get really mad. He… God, it was just terrible. He wanted to micromanage everything I did and I was suffocating. So, after about a year of this, I said enough and broke up with him. But he just won’t leave me alone. He doesn’t threaten me, he doesn’t do anything to hurt me, but he’s always there, following me around and I just can’t lose him. It’s way beyond the point of just ‘coincidentally’ being in the same place I am, it’s…”

“Stalking,” he summed up for you.

You bit your lip. “Exactly. Hell, he’s probably right outside the building right now, waiting for me to get out so he can follow me home and ‘make sure I get there safely.’” You shook your head. “I can’t go to the cops with this because I don’t have any substantial evidence, and I could’ve handled it—I  _ have  _ been handling it for two months—but now I’m starting to lose sleep over it and it’s just too much for me. I need help and my roommate Joyce saw your ad in the paper and after I had that nightmare last night, I couldn’t deny that I needed you anymore.” You glanced up at him with pleading eyes. “Can you help me?”

Bucky nodded immediately. “Of course I can, (y/n).” He grinned softly at you. “In fact, I already have some ideas on how to get him to back off.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oh?”

He chuckled at your response. “Yes. I gave it some thought before coming here today. Now, the most efficient solution I can think of is I just stay with you whenever you go out, acting as a sort of escort or bodyguard if you will. I’m told I’m intimidating enough to scare off even the most persistent man,” he commented with an amused chuckle.

You glanced over his strong build briefly before nodding in agreement. “I can see that. If you are who the internet says you are, I wouldn’t blame people for being a little intimidated.”

He stiffened slightly. “What does the internet say?”

You felt the shift in the atmosphere, almost as if it had grown a little tenser. “Well… it says that you’re Captain America’s friend and you went through a lot of shit in the past that made you into a bad-ass guy that’s a part of the Avengers now… Is that accurate?”

He paused for a moment in thought before bobbing his head. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Um…” You hesitated, but a large part of you was curious to see if the stories about his arm were true as well. That would be the ultimate test of his identity—if he had the metal arm, that is—but you were hesitant to ask about that. You weren’t sure how sensitive of a topic that would be for him, but in the end you decided to say screw it and ask anyways. “It also mentioned something about your…” Your voice faded out there towards the end as your courage dwindled. Your eyes darted down towards his hands in lieu of finishing the sentence.

He caught your gaze and asked, “My arm?”

You nodded slowly.

He sighed. “I figured you’d be wondering about that… Who wouldn’t wonder?” He reached down for his left hand and tugged off his glove. The metal of his hand glimmered in the restaurant lights as he opened and closed his fist. “It’s real metal,” he commented. “All wires and plates, and it’s done a lot of evil in its life, but I’m trying to turn that around and use it for good.”

“I can appreciate that,” you said with a nod. “I think it’s a good and noble thing you’re doing. Being a ‘hero for hire,’ that is. I couldn’t do it so I admire you for being able to.”

A soft smile graced his lips. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of being the reason he smiled like that. 

He sat up a little straighter in his seat, a small hint of confidence exuding from his posture. “Now, back to the situation at hand. How comfortable are you with a hundred year old man following you around for your protection?”

You chuckled. “More comfortable than I am with Damien following me around. After all, I am paying you to do this.”

He shook his head. “No you aren’t.”

Your lips turned down into a frown. “But the ad said—”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I had to make it authentic. No one would’ve called me up if I didn’t include a price. Besides, I’m living off of Tony Stark’s dollar. I don’t really need your fifty bucks. I’m here because I want to help.”

“But I ought to give you something for helping me,” you protested. It just wouldn’t be right to deprive him of any sort of reward, especially since he was going out of his way to help you.

“You are giving me something. You’re giving me the chance to be better. And that’s all I need right now.” He tilted his head with a smile. “Besides… The satisfaction of shutting this douchebag down will be payment enough. I’ve never been a fan of men who think it’s okay to harass pretty dames.”

You snickered. “Me neither.”

Bucky hummed. “Well then, (y/n). It seems we have a plan. In exchange for letting me do some good and community service, you’ve got yourself a bodyguard until we can teach this guy a lesson. Correct?”

You nodded. “Correct.”

“We can work out the fine details of meeting up everyday later, but for now it’s getting late. Might I walk you home?” he asked as he stood and crossed the table. He held out his hand for you to take. 

You hesitantly reached up and grasped his hand.

He pulled you to your feet with ease, letting go of your hand moments later. “Lead the way.”

You complied, leading him out of the restaurant and into Manhattan’s streets. 

As soon as you stepped out of the doors of Chez Moi, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Discreetly, you glanced around the immediate vicinity and, sure enough, Damien was a few yards behind you, his eyes burning with something foreign at the sight of you and Bucky. You stiffened. You knew it. Of course he was waiting for you.

Bucky noticed the change in your posture as you led him down the street. “Is he here?” he asked in a low voice so only you would hear. At your slight nod of confirmation, he followed up with asking, “Where?”

“A few yards back,” you answered coldly. “He’s in the red shirt and has black hair. He’s probably glaring at the back of your head.”

He too glanced around to scope the area. “I think I see him. Real brooding guy whose face is set in a permanent frown?”

“That’s him,” you groaned as you led him across an intersection. “I told you; he’s always there.”

“Well, hopefully that won’t be the case here in a few days.”

You nodded. 

The rest of the walk was taken in silence. You didn’t want to risk Damien’s eavesdropping before you continued on with your conversation, and you most certainly didn’t want him to pick up on what you were doing just yet. You wanted the timing and everything to fit. 

As soon as you arrived back at your apartment building, you rushed Bucky inside and plugged in your gate code. Ushering him in ahead of you, you slid in and closed the gate right as Damien came up to the entrance to your building. By the time he had gotten in the front doors, you and Bucky were already in the elevator with the doors shutting. 

You let out a sigh of relief and pressed the button for the fifth floor. “The gate code is 1448,” you said as you let your head roll back. “You’ll need that to get in to the main apartments. Joyce and mine’s on the fifth floor, third door to the right. I can write all of this down for you when we get there.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not necessary. I’ll remember it. Besides, a physical copy of the information would be simpler for stalker-boy to get his hands on. You don’t want that floating around.”

You hummed. “You’re right. If you forget anything, I suppose you do have my number. You can always call.”

He nodded with a smile. “I will.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 

You quickly disembarked and walked down the hall to your apartment door. You reached into your pocket to pull out your keys. As you slid the key into the lock, you glanced up at Bucky. “I’m going to warn you though. We have a very ferocious guard cat.” You didn’t wait for his response before pushing open the door.

Almost as if on cue, Carrot came running from whatever hole he had been hiding in and charged your legs, screaming the entire way. He expertly jumped the last foot, vaulting up to your leg.

You bent down and caught him just before he sunk his claws into your flesh. “Carrot, meet Bucky. Don’t attack him.” You turned to Bucky. “Bucky, this is my baby, Carrot.”

Bucky chuckled and reached forward to scratch Carrot right between the ears. “Well isn’t he just precious?”

A loud purr emitted from the back of Carrot’s throat and his head flopped back in ecstasy. 

You hummed. “He’ll come and greet you whenever you come. He’s very territorial and has to thoroughly sniff you to grant you passage.”

He bent down so he was eye-level with your cat. “I hope you’ll let me in, Carrot. I’m here to help your momma get rid of a bad guy.” He held his hand out to Carrot’s nose. 

Carrot sniffed it for a few seconds before gently licking the flesh. 

You breathed a tiny laugh. “He approves.” You bent down and set Carrot back on the floor.

He promptly scurried off back into the apartment.

You turned your attention back to Bucky. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water or something?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve imposed too long and it’s late. You ought to be getting to bed.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I guess.” Your eyes searched his face. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

Bucky’s gaze softened. “Of course. Does eleven work for you?”

You nodded. “It does. Thank you, Bucky.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spared you one last lingering gaze before turning around and walking back down the hall to the elevator.

You watched him right up until the moment the doors to the elevator slid shut before going back to your room. As you climbed into bed, you couldn’t help but feel content and happy and, as the night went on, you fell into the best sleep you had in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Bucky lay awake in his bed at the compound. He stared absently at the dark ceiling above him, the silence deafening as he drowned in his thoughts.

It was no surprise to him that the subject of his thoughts was you; no surprise at all. In a measly hour and a half, you had already imprinted on him in a way that few had ever done before. He felt a strange sense of protectiveness when he thought of you as his mind and heart both screamed at him to keep you safe—especially from your psychotic ex Damien.

It made him so antsy and anxious to think of that creep following you around and stalking you like that. Couldn’t the guy take a damn hint?

He could understand your frustration. With Damien not taking any explicit action to harm or threaten you, he was just barely skirting under the law. He wasn’t technically doing anything illegal which made him immune from arrest. Your only hope to resolve the situation was Bucky, and he wasn’t sure why that made him happy.

He shouldn’t be happy that you were in trouble, but he was happy that it was your trouble that had you call him. He was happy that your trouble was giving him the chance to turn around and save people rather than endanger them. He was happy to have this opportunity.

He couldn’t sleep as he rolled over on his side. He just wanted to work. He was so eager to do something to start the job that he almost let himself entertain the idea of leaving to stand guard outside your apartment building right then and there. Lord knows he didn’t technically need the sleep he’d be missing—the serum coursing through his veins providing him with almost limitless energy that needed to be recharged only once about every three days. However, he decided against that option. He didn’t think it wise to go full-blown overprotective mode on you just yet. After all, he had just met you.

He needed to come up with a game plan.

This Damien fellow seemed like the kind of guy that was not easily deterred so it would take a little bit of extra effort on Bucky’s part to chase the guy away. A few threats were probably in order, but, if possible, he would’ve liked to steer clear of the “Come-near-her-again-and-you-die” method. He would probably just stay with you as a bodyguard to ward him off at first, slowly making his way to talk to the creep and  _ then _ threaten him.

The idea of Damien cowering beneath him and swearing up and down that he’d leave you alone brought a smile to Bucky’s face and he flipped over onto his back. He glanced at the clock. 

3:37

Only seven-and-a-half more hours until he could start his job.

———

“(y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)!”

“Nngh… Go away, Joy.” You rolled over in your bed as you pulled the pillow up and over your head. 

“But (y/n),” she whined. “You have to get up! Your bodyguard’ll be here any minute and you have to do the grocery shopping. It’s your week!”

_ Dammit… _

You flopped onto your back with a groan. “No! Please don’t make me go out there!” You looked up at her as she was standing in your doorway waiting for you.

“(y/n) (l/n),” she said as she took on her motherly tone she used for scolding you and settled her hands on her hips. “I have let you stay in and weasel your way out of grocery shopping for nearly a month now with his whole Damien fiasco, but, now that you have your bodyguard, no more!” She narrowed her eyes at you. “Don’t give me that look.”

You continued to give her that look. “I don’t wanna go out. I don’t wanna go shopping!”

“Too bad. Bucky will be here in five minutes and you’ve got to be ready.”

Five minutes.

Your head snapped up as you suddenly found yourself very awake. “ _ Five minutes? _ ” Your eyes darted to the clock on your dresser.

10:55

“ _ Shit! _ ” You scrambled to get untangled from your sheets and get out of bed.

Carrot meowed in protest as he jumped off to get away from your madness. His sleep had been disturbed and he was not happy.

You’d make it up to him later, but right now you needed to  _ move _ . You darted across the room to your dresser and tore out a plaid shirt with sleeves that came down to your elbows and a pair of form fitting jeans. The shirt was easy to get on, but you had to admit that you were struggling with the pants in your uncoordinated and groggy state. You only had one leg in and situated and were trying to wiggle your way into the other when the knock came promptly at 11:00 on the door.

“Joyce,” you pleaded as you moved to shut the door to the bedroom.

Your roommate stood up from her place on the couch muttering, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Behind the closed door, you could hear her opening up the front door. “Bucky! (y/n)’s getting ready. She had a late start cause she’s a lazy twat who decided to sleep in.”

“Shut up!” you yelled with a laugh as you shoved your leg into the pants and hurried to hike them up over your hips.

She laughed. “Love you!” she called back.

You could hear Bucky’s laughter following hers and the sound was so pleasing and appealing that you almost forgot to breathe. You cursed under your breath as you quickly fastened your jeans’ buttons. Glancing in your mirror and deeming yours appearance acceptable, you tore open your door to face the man himself.

Bucky was dressed in casual clothes: a simple pair of jeans and the leather jacket from yesterday that was partially open to reveal a red Henley shirt. He’d ditched the hat and let his hair fall freely along the sides of his face. He was currently being ushered to the island by Joyce, looking extremely baffled by the way she was moving him as if they’d known each other for years.

You couldn’t blame him; you’d reacted the same way when you first met her. Her welcoming attitude would take even the most comfortable way by surprise.

She made sure he was situated on the bar-stool before she turned to get him a glass of water. “I’m so glad you’re here to help my (y/n),” she said as she turned on the faucet. “The poor thing’s become paranoid since Damien started acting like a creep.” She dipped the cup under the water to fill it up. “She hasn’t left the apartment for anything other than work and to occasionally bring me lunch at the hospital in weeks.” She sighed as she turned the water off and swiveled her body to face him. “You’re going to be a real life saver, y’know? Not only for her, but for me too. On top of work I’ve had to do all the shopping myself too! Now that she has you, she has no excuse to not go shopping.” Her eyes flickered up and landed on your figure. “Ain’t that right, (y/n)?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah; whatever.” You turned your attention to Bucky who had moved his gaze from your roommate to you and was giving you a shy smile. “Give me a second. I just have to brush my teeth,” you explained as you started walking towards the bathroom.

He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m in no rush.”

“I am!” Joyce piped in. “I’m looking forward to having the apartment all to myself!”

At that moment, Carrot decided to scream at her.

She looked down to her feet where the orange cat was sitting and glaring at her impatiently and grinned. “Well, all to myself and Carrot that is. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed, bending down and scooping him up into her arms.

You shook your head with a laugh and walked into the bathroom. It didn’t take you long to do all the morning procedures—maybe fifteen minutes at most—and you were out before you knew it.

Carrot had migrated from Joyce to Bucky’s lap and was curled up and rubbing his head against Bucky’s hand affectionately.

Bucky looked up at you with pleading eyes. “Help. I’m trapped.”

You grimaced. “Oh, Buck. I’m sorry, but you’re stuck there forever.” You looked up at Joyce with a shrug. “Sorry, Joy. We can’t leave. Carrot has made his claim.”

She deadpanned at you. “Move the damn cat.”

You snickered. “Alright, fine. But then you get to deal with his temper tantrum.” You trudged over to Bucky and scooped Carrot off his lap to deposit him onto the ground.

The cat meowed in protest and scurried off to the other room to pout.

Free from his fluffy prison, Bucky stood and brushed off the stray cat hairs on his lap. He turned to you. “Shall we get going then?”

You bit back a groan. “I guess… I don’t want to, but I guess.” You walked towards the door and slid into a pair of slip-on shoes. You glanced back at Joyce.

She was already settling into the couch to enjoy her time alone. “Have fun, kids!” she said with a devious grin and a wave.

You rolled your eyes. “Send me the grocery list,” you called as you pulled open the front door and walked into the hall.

Bucky followed you closely and shut the door behind him, a small smile on his face.

You averted your gaze. “Sorry about her,” you apologized as you started to lead him down towards the elevator. “She can be a lot, especially at first.” You summoned the elevator and almost immediately the doors slid open.

He shrugged as he entered the open compartment and jammed his thumb on the button for the ground floor. “It’s fine. You get used to really energetic people at the compound. On a good day, Steve is like a freaking puppy; he’s always bounding around and pestering me.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Steve? As in Steve Rogers?”

He nodded nonchalantly. “The punk is a spirited little thing. Always has been. It’s good to see that some things haven’t changed with time.” A reminiscent grin swept across his face.

Slowly the elevator descended down the floors to the bottom level.

You leaned back against the far wall to watch him curiously. You tilted your head to the side. “Do you miss it?” you asked softly.

He turned towards you, an inquiring gaze on his face.

“Th-The past, I mean. Back before all…” You gestured vaguely, hoping that your question was getting across. You suddenly felt very foolish. What a stupid question. You shouldn’t have asked that.

He paused for a second before finally responding, “Yes, I do. Times were simpler back then and I wasn’t…” He shrugged and lifted his metal hand. “It was a time before all of this shit happened, but, like my therapist says, everything happens for a reason.” He lifted his piercing blue eyes up to examine your face. “There’s a reason behind everything. I like to think that I’ve made it this far and done so many bad things because I’m meant to do something good.” He breathed a laugh. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but it’s what helps me sleep at night, y’know?”

You didn’t know, but you understood.

You didn’t know him all that well; all you knew were snippets of what you had heard on the news. You knew he was Captain America’s best friend back around World War II. You knew he was captured and experimented on, supposedly dying after he fell off a train. You knew that, from there, he was turned into the Winter Soldier, the most deadly assassin in an evil organization called HYDRA. You knew that he was involved in the helicarrier incident and fall of SHIELD in Washington D.C. a few years ago. You knew that he wound up in Bucharest a two years after that. You knew that the Avengers had had a little spat over him and the Sokovia Accords. You knew that everything had worked out in the end and he had been brought back to America, cleared of his charges, and made an unofficial member of the Avengers; you say “unofficial because he has yet to go on a true mission with them or make a public appearance with them but he lives with them as a member of the team would.

But you didn’t know him. You didn’t know his favorite color. You didn’t know his favorite food. You didn’t know what would push his buttons. You didn’t know what his favorite memories were. You didn’t know anything about what made him Bucky Barnes.

But you understood what made him tick. You could appreciate his desperation to do good in his life, especially if all the things about him on the internet were true.

You simply nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

He smiled softly. “Maybe that’s why I’m here with you.”

You bit your lip. “Because some higher power decided to make my ass-hat of an ex an obsessive creep so I would call you for help?”

He chuckled. “It seems a little ridiculous when you say it like that, but who knows. Maybe we were just destined to need each other.”

“Maybe…”

The door opened on the bottom floor and the two of you exited it. You took the initiative in walking, opening up the security gate and holding it open for Bucky. “We’re not going too far,” you started as you changed the subject. “The grocery store is just a few blocks down.”

He shrugged. “It’s no problem. I don’t mind the walk.”

You chuckled. “You might mind when we’re carrying the grocery bags back. Those things can be heavy.”

“I think I can handle it,” he said as he made a display of flexing his arms.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of his actions. “You’re a dork, Bucky Barnes. Put those guns away and let’s go shopping.”

He complied and you began the four block walk to the store.

The walk itself was pretty painless. The feeling of being watched was, for the first time in weeks, absent. It was a liberating feeling; walking there with Bucky and not having to worry about your stalker. It was, quite literally, a little slice of heaven right there.

It took you guys a good twenty minutes to navigate the crowded New York sidewalks, but during that time, you both got to joke around and share stories with each other.

“…he used to walk along the banisters of the fire escape,” you said as you walked through the sliding glass doors of the grocery store. You shook your head with a smile. “Carrot was the biggest daredevil you would ever see. Until…”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Until?”

“Until he took a wrong step and fell down onto the fire escape two floors down.”

He bit his lip as the two of you walked further into the store and he picked up a grocery basket. “I shouldn’t laugh, but I want to.”

You shrugged. “Eh, we laughed; you can too.” You grinned at him. “But Carrot hardly went outside after that. He didn’t want to risk falling again. The poor thing was traumatized.”

He made a small humph. “I can’t blame the poor fella. He probably lost one of his nine lives that day.”

You shook your head and also grabbed a grocery basket. You fit it in the crook of your arm. “Nah, he’s never lost a life. He’s immortal.” You leaned into him. “We think he’s an alien that’s taken the form of a cat to study human life,” you whispered secretively.

Bucky nodded. “Well, that would make sense.” He grinned. “Now, moving on from your cat, what do we need to get?” he asked as he led you deeper into the store.

You directed him towards the frozen section. “Joyce and I usually stock up on individually frozen meals. She works during the day, I work at night and we rarely get to eat together so we just eat the frozen meals when it suits us.”

He hummed. “You guys should really think about investing in home-cooked meals. One of the good parts about living at the compound is that, when everyone’s together and not on missions, we get some freshly made food. Sam might be an ass sometimes, but he’s a helluva good cook.” He grinned slightly. “They all get back from their mission in a few days and I’ll be expecting that we get his cooking by this time next week. I’ll save you some leftovers and bring it with when I come to pick you up.”

You frowned at him quizzically. “’Pick me up?’”

“For the day,” he clarified as if it was the most obvious thing. “Part of being your bodyguard means I’ll be there every day to pick you up and escort you to wherever you need to go.”

“Oh. Right.” You cleared your throat. “But ‘bodyguard?’ Really?”

He cracked a smile. “Would you rather I be called an escort? Perhaps your ‘Bucky-guard?’”

You stifled a laugh. “No. I just want you to be Bucky, my friend.”

He stopped short, turning to face you. “Friend?”

You nodded. “Yeah, a friend. You know, someone you can count on and enjoy hanging out with? Th-That is, if you want to be my friend,” you quickly added. “You don’t have to be my friend if you don’t want to. I mean, I know that this was just a job for you, but if you wanted to go out for coffee or something once all this is over I wouldn’t mind. Of course you’d—”

“(y/n),” he interjected, cutting you off with a gentle tone and smile. “It’s fine. I’d love to be friends.”

You looked up at him with large eyes as a child meeting their hero would. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re really cool and,” he paused to give you a nervous laugh, “if I’m being honest, I don’t have any other friends outside the compound.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, the team is great and all, but they just aren’t…” He scrunched his face up as he fished around his vocabulary for the word. “They just aren’t you.”

You felt your face heat up and you couldn’t contain the special feeling that was bubbling up in your chest. “Oh,” you mumbled with a smile. You turned away from him and opened the freezer door in front of you. As you scooped some individually packaged dinners into your basket, you turned back to look at him. “Well, I’m glad that they aren’t me. If they were me, you might not want to be my friend.”

He chuckled. “Maybe.” He took a few steps closer to you to hold the freezer door open. “What do you have to do after this?” he asked absently.

You let your head fall back as you thought. “Not much… I’ll have to go pick up some uniforms from the dry cleaners; they’re the only ones who can get the blood out of Joy’s scrubs and the really tough stains out of my shirts. And then I should probably get the mail today…” You grimaced. “I ought to do all the errands I can today so that way I’m not dragging you along all the time.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he let the freezer door fall. “I don’t mind either way, but since we are out anyways, it would make sense.” 

You nodded as you led him out of the aisle. “We’ll need to drop off the food first,” you said with a shrug. “So that way the frozens don’t melt and we don’t have to carry them around all night, but that shouldn’t take too long.”

He hummed. “We’ll have you home by five tonight, and then I suppose I’ll be leaving shortly after that,” he said more to himself than anything. He seemed to be thinking aloud.

You didn’t want him to leave you right after dropping you off. You bit your lip and, before you lost your nerve, you asked out in a tender voice, “Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

He paused and turned to you, a somewhat startled expression on his face. “What?”

“Joyce and I are both off tonight so we can cook. W-We’re having tacos and I was wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner. It really wouldn’t be a hassle to make enough for one more; we’d usually have leftovers anyways.” You shrugged and looked down at your feet. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it was just a—”

“I’ll do it,” he said cutting you off.

You blinked. “What?”

He smiled softly. “I’d love to stay for dinner. Tacos sound a lot better than take out.”

“Yeah,” you said breathing a small laugh of relief and agreement. “I guess it does.” You smile up at him. “Then shall we divide and conquer? Can you go and get the meat and Carrot’s cat and I’ll get everything else? I’ll need a pound of eighty percent beef and the Purina Complete Cat Chow.”

Bucky smiled. “Sure. Meet you at the cashiers?”

You nodded with a grin before branching off from him to gather the items on your list.

It didn’t take you long to gather the basics. Tortillas, lettuce, cheese, and sour cream were easy enough to pick out, but it was the taco seasoning that really stumped you.

Your eyes scanned the rows. What kind of taco seasoning would Bucky like? Spicy? Mild? Did he even really care? You knew that Joyce preferred the extra spicy stuff while you liked the one that was practically cold. You debated just grabbing them all and shoving them into your basket, but that wouldn’t be a really cost effective way to buy seasoning. Finally you settled on the seasoning packet that was dead center on the spice scale. It’d have to do.

You took a deep breath and pulled your phone out. What else did you need before you met Bucky up front? By the looks of it, not much. Just a few sides that would help balance out the meal. 

As you stood there dwelling, you didn’t notice a familiar figure turn into your aisle and stare out you until an incredulous voice called out, “(y/n)?” 

Your body stiffened automatically. You’d know that voice anywhere. Glancing to the side, you had to keep yourself from retching.

Damien stood down the aisle from you, shopping basket resting in the crook of his arm and filled with various groceries. He looked genuinely shocked to see that you had ventured out of the safety of your apartment without any apparent safety blanket. To be honest, you would have been surprised too. He wasted no time in crossing the aisle to come to your side.

You took subtle steps away from him. “Damien,” you greeted in a clipped voice.

He beamed at you. “I didn’t think I’d see you here! What are the odds?” He moved to take a step closer to you.

You moved to take a step away and laughed nervously. “Yeah… What are the odds…” You turned your head away from him as your mind screamed at you to get away from him as fast as you could.

His smile was daunting as he reached out to rest his hand on your upper arm.

You flinched as you silently urged him to get his filthy hand off of you. Oh God, where was Bucky when you needed him?

“How’ve you been? I feel like we haven’t talked to each other in forever.”

You took another step away from him. “I don’t see why how I’ve been doing is any of your business,” you said crossing your arms.

“(y/n),” he cooed. “I worry about you? That’s not a crime.” His eyes lit up as if an idea just came to his head. “Did you get my letters?” he asked with a grin.

Letters? Oh, right. Joyce referred to them as “fan mail” and you just shoved it into the trash. “Damien, listen I—”

“(y/n)!”

You and Damien simultaneously turned your heads to look at the end of the aisle where, much to your relief, a large and familiar figure was walking towards you.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to take his place at your side and wrap his flesh arm around your shoulders in a protective stance. He beamed down at you. “I was looking all over for you. I thought you were going to meet me up front.”

You’d never been so thankful to see a man before in your life and you smiled up at him. “I was just on my way to meet you but I…” Your eyes flickered towards Damien and you prayed he caught your hint despite only seeing your stalker briefly in passing the day before.

He understood. “Mmm, I see,” he mused as he turned his attention towards Damien. “You must be the famous ‘Damien’ I’ve heard so much about.”

A mixture of pride and confusion took over Damien’s features and he straightened his back. “That I am,” he said stiffly. “And who are you?”

“The name’s James. James Barnes, that is.” Bucky smiled calmly at him but you could pick up on the hints of malice. “I’m (y/n)’s friend.” His voice was firm and, frankly, intimidating in just those few words.

You were glad you weren’t on the receiving end of his tone.

“Her friend?” Damien asked skeptically. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“It’s a recent relationship, but we’re already pretty close.” He tightened his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh,” he muttered in disdain. “Well, it was nice to meet you, James, but I’d really just like to talk to (y/n).  _ Alone _ .”

Bucky bared his teeth in a sort of apologetic grin. “Ah, see, that’s a no can do. You know, (y/n) and I here have quite the busy day ahead of us. And you,” his lazy gaze gave Damien a once over and he smiled sadly. “You’re pathetic.”

Damien blinked, the insult taking him by surprise. “Excuse me?”

Bucky was standing a little straighter. “You’re  _ pathetic _ ,” he repeated. “Harassing a young girl who clearly wants nothing to do with you is unbecoming. Just give it up, man. It’s over. M’kay?” He smiled a sickly sweet and threatening smile. 

“Y-You’ve got some nerve saying—”

“No.  _ You’ve  _ got some nerve. And, if you continue with your actions of harassing my dear (y/n), there will be consequences.” He lifted up his metal hand which was uncovered and shining in the open air to admire it absently. “They don’t call me the most lethal assassin of our time for no reason.” He chuckled darkly and turned his sharp eyes onto the man who was doing all but cower under the gaze of the former Winter Soldier. “Stay away from (y/n) or you will find out exactly why I earned that title. This is your one and only warning. Understand?”

All Damien could do was nod.

Bucky’s threatening aura faded instantly. “Then we’re good here! Come on, (y/n). I wanna get this food home so we can go out.” And with that, he steered you out of the aisle and away from Damien. As soon as you were out of his earshot, Bucky looked down at you, his blue eyes soft and concerned. “You okay?”

You nodded shakily. “Bucky… That was…”

“Too much?” he asked with a sheepish smile.

You stared up at him in awe. “No. Buck, that was incredible! I’m the one you were defending and  _ I _ was anxious.”

He chuckled. “That was kind of the goal. I had to threaten him and get the ball rolling, didn’t I?”

You nodded. “Do you think that did it? Do you think we’ve warded him off?”

“Oh no. We are so far away from that point it’s not funny,” he said, his voice turning solemn. “I saw it in his eyes,” he explained. “Damien is… stubborn,” he said as he directed you to the check out aisles. He began to help you load the conveyor belt “I doubt he’ll give up any time soon.”

Well that was disheartening. You felt your body physically deflate at the news. 

“But hey,” he said in a light voice. “On the bright side, I think we’re making progress. He was definitely intimidated.”

You dared to look up at him with hopeful eyes. “He was?”

Bucky nodded as the cashier started to scan your things. “Oh yeah. I expect that he’ll be running for the hills by the end of the month.”

You chuckled as you pulled your wallet out of your pocket. As you fished out the appropriate amount of money to pay for your groceries, you smiled at him shyly. “Well, it’s November 6 and— Wait.” You paused. “It is the sixth, right?”

He nodded with an amused smile. “It is.”

“Well, let’s shoot for December 7. A month and a day and then I’ll treat you to coffee to celebrate my freedom.” You smiled up at him. “Sound good?”

He nodded and began to pick up the bags that were stuffed with your groceries. “Sounds phenomenal. I can’t wait.”


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed. Then weeks. Then November, and before you knew it, it was December 7—the day you had hoped to be rid of your parasite of an ex-boyfriend-turned-obsessive-stalker.

And nothing had changed.

The days went a little something like this: Wake up, get dressed, feed the cat, Joyce leaves for work, Bucky comes at eleven, hang out for several hours, maybe go out to lunch; if not, just kill time on Netflix or talking, then he’d walk you to Chez Moi around four for your shift and take an extra long dinner so he could walk you home, and finally say goodbye to him at the end of the night.

It’d happen at random intervals, but you’d still feel Damien’s gaze on you whenever you left the apartment. He didn’t approach you nearly as often with Bucky around, but you could count on a greeting or attempt of contact whenever Bucky was distracted. Granted, he’d run away as soon as Bucky came within five feet, but still. 

Bucky had said you were making progress, but you didn’t believe it. How could you? Nothing had changed. 

But it was what it was. And life went on.

———

_ The atmosphere was eerily calm and still. You stood there—at the balcony—in your white silk dress. The beach was lovely this time of year. The beach house was the perfect getaway.  _

_ So why did you feel so uneasy? _

_ The water was still, the animals were silent, and you were completely alone. There wasn’t even a breeze to tickle your skin. _

_ It was silent. _

_ Until it wasn’t. _

_ A pair of arms snaked themselves around your waist and a chin settled down onto your shoulder. “Good morning, (y/n),” whispered a deep voice into your ear. _

_ You stiffened. _

_ Damien inhaled and exhaled slowly, his breath ghosting your skin and making you shiver with discomfort. “Did you sleep well?” _

_ Every alarm was blaring loudly inside your head. What was he doing here? What were you doing here with him? You turned around to look at him, your eyes wide with fear. But when you saw him, it was even more horrifying than you’d ever imagined. _

_ His eyes were black—not their usual dark color, but pitch black, whites and all—and the most bone chilling smile was settled on his lips. “I know I did. After all, I had my girl right beside me.” He pulled you closer to him so your chest was pressed against his. _

_ You quickly shoved him back. “Get off of me!” you screamed. “Get away!” _

_ His smile never faded as he only began to advance back towards you. “But (y/n). You love me.” _

_ “No I don’t!” You shoved him back again and ran around him. Into the beach house you plunged, running deeper and deeper into the building to escape him. _

_ The beach house was like a maze; filled with twists and turns and endless corridors. There was no way this house could reasonably be this freaking big. _

_ And yet, there you were, running around the large house frantically. There had to be an exit somewhere. _

_ You rounded another corner only to stop short as you collided with a solid chest. You stumbled back and lifted your gaze, locking eyes with the man you loathed. _

_ Damien grinned. “There you are, dearie. I missed you. Now why don’t we have breakfast.” _

_ “Let me go!” you wailed as you turned around and began to run again.  _

_ This time, something followed you. _

_ You couldn’t see what it was, but you felt it. Its presence stayed at your heels, biting them with every inch it grew closer. _

_ The walls around you began to lose their color, slowly fading to a black as they darkened and closed in. _

_ You felt the tension growing in your chest, suffocating you as you pushed your feet to run faster. But it was no use. _

_ The monster behind you began to gain, catching up, keeping up, and, before you knew it, the ground was caving in under you and you were falling down into the endless void beneath you. _

_ The only sound around you as you fell was his laughter accompanied by the echoes of crashing.  _

——— 

It was the bright flash of lightning and loud crack of thunder mixed with the rain pounding against your window that startled you awake screaming.

Your sheets stuck to your sweat-covered body, clinging to you almost as tightly as that white dress had in that dream. You clutched your balled fist to your chest as you panted heavily, trying to calm down the erratic beats of your heart. You could still hear the laughter, see the smile, feel his hands on you. It chilled you to the bone.

Your bedroom lit up as lightning flashed in the sky and the windows shook with the force of the lightning strike. The thunder was the only thing you could hear and it blocked out any other noise. 

You screamed again, the sudden sensation startling you and eliciting the panicked response. 

The thunder, the lightning, it was all too much for your sleep deprived and nightmare frenzied mind. Your hands were grasping your cell phone before you could stop them and your fingers were quickly pulling up your contacts before you could process your actions. Before you knew it, the familiar face of your hero flashed on the screen as the phone dialed his number.

It only took two rings for him to pick up. “(y/n)? (y/n), doll, what’s wrong?”

It took you a few more seconds to actually get coherent and intelligent words out of your quiet sobs, but when you finally found your voice, it came out in a pathetic whimper. “Bucky?”

The sound of covers rustling on the other end echoed in the phone and Bucky answered with, “(y/n), I’m here. What’s going on?” His voice was worried. You couldn’t blame him. It was nearing three in the morning and you never called him this late.

“I-I…” you started out, but you couldn’t find the words. “I called you because I had a nightmare” didn’t seem to be a good enough excuse. “I called you because I didn’t know who else to call” didn’t fit the bill. “I need you” was just pathetic.

“(y/n)? (y/n) talk to me, doll,” he said in an attempt to coax the words out of you. “Are you okay?”

“I… I just…” You wanted to tell him that you needed him but the words were getting stuck at the back of your throat. You couldn’t make yourself choke them up.

A few seconds of your whimpering later, Bucky took a deep breath. “Hold tight, (y/n). I’m on my way. I’m coming.”

The line went dead before you could even give him an affirmation or tell him no and you were left alone once again.

Another crack of thunder filled the room and you whimpered. You had to get out of your room. 

You stumbled out of bed and to the door. Wrenching it open, you tore into the main room.

Carrot was fast asleep on the couch, the harsh rain and thunder outside not disturbing his little cat nap in the slightest. You envied him.

You took a deep breath and moved on to the kitchen. You needed water. You needed something. 

You hastily flicked on the kitchen light and pulled a glass from the cabinet to hold it under the tap. Turning on the faucet, you let it fill up to the brim and moved to gulp it down. The water was cool and refreshing as it ran down your throat and it helped to bring you out of your sleep hazed mind. You sat down at the island, taking deep breaths as you nursed your drink. There you sat in waiting.

You didn’t have to wait for long.

The knock at the door came sooner than you expected—maybe a whole fifteen minutes after making the call.

You were up on your feet and dashing for the door before you knew it. You tore the door open to reveal Bucky standing in the threshold.

He looked like he had quite literally just rolled out of bed and stumbled in the rain with his damp long sleeved grey hoodie, checkered-black flannel pajama bottoms, and surprisingly stylish crocs. His dark hair had been pulled back into a messy bun that rested at the base of his neck and his eyes were alert. He was holding a medium sized dish covered with tinfoil and gazing at you. “I came as soon as I could.”

You nodded and looked over the covered dish with a curious glance.

As if sensing the question that was on the tip of your tongue, Bucky shrugged. “You sounded distraught on the phone and I thought… Well, it’s silly but,” he breathed a laugh, “Sam did the cooking tonight and I told you that he was a good cook and I thought that…” He took a deep breath. “I thought that you might need some comfort good in the form of a good, home-cooked meal.”

You smiled softly. “You’re probably right, but…” You shook your head biting your lip. “How did you get here so fast?” you asked as you moved to the side to let him in.

He shrugged as he stepped in. “Helicopter.”

You blinked. “Heli-what-now?”

“Helicopter,” he said nonchalantly. He kicked off his crocs and walked towards your kitchen. “I parked it on the roof. Hopefully the people on the top floor won’t mind too terribly.” He chuckled weakly as he set the dish down on the island and turned towards you. “What happened?” he asked, his voice turning serious and filled with concern.

You bit your lip and bowed your head. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

You hesitated before admitting to him, “I had a nightmare and I didn’t know who else to call. Joyce is out at her boyfriend’s and Carrot’s just a cat. I needed someone human to talk to and calm me down and you were the first person I could think of.” You shook your head. “I’m sorry I disturbed you so late. I shouldn’t have called. It’s pathetic but I just needed—”

“Stop,” he ordered sternly.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with confusion. “Wh-What?”

“I said stop. Don’t you dare beat yourself up about needing help after a nightmare. Don’t you dare.” He shook his head as he stepped forward. With three of his large strides, he was at your side and pulling you into a tight embrace.

You found yourself trapped against his chest with his arms encircled around your waist.

And it was the most glorious feeling in the world.

You felt safe there in his arms—secure even. Standing there as he held you close, you could feel all your worries fading away. The nightmare be damned because now Buck was here and everything was okay.

The chill of his metal hand shifted as he moved to bury his nose in the crook of your neck. “Don’t be ashamed of being scared by your own nightmares. You are not the first to have needed comforting and you won’t be the last. You are human too, and I’m glad you called me.” His breath tickled your neck as he spoke.

You closed your eyes as you took a shaky breath. “I’m glad too.”

You both stood like that for God knows how long; but it was definitely long enough for your legs to grow tired and stiff.

Bucky didn’t let you go until you had relaxed in his arms and, even when he did, he held you at arms length while he observed your face. “Are you okay?”

You sniffed and nodded. “I am now that you’re here. Thank you Bucky.”

He smiled softly. “Any time. Now, why don’t we get something to eat. I know from experience that having a nightmare can make you hungry.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled greedily, practically screaming, “Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!” You chuckled nervously. “Yeah… What d’you have?”

Bucky took your hand and pulled you over to the island where the covered dish lay. “It may be a bit of an unconventional meal, but here we have it.” He pulled the tinfoil off to reveal the food. “Voilà! ‘Pumpkin bread à la Falcon!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the orange loaf that was sitting there in the pan. “Sam Wilson bakes?”

He nodded as he took the dish and inserted it into your microwave. “Mhmm. He says it’s ‘delicious therapy.’” He set the microwave for thirty seconds and took a step back.

You hummed as you sat down on one of the bar stools. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

“No he is not.” The microwave beeped and he pulled out the dish that was filled with the bread that was reheated and moistened by the process. He set the dish down in front of you before coming to join you on the other stool. “Go ahead, try it.”

You obeyed and picked off a small chunk of the bread and popped it into your mouth. Instantly, flavor exploded on your tongue, eliciting a satisfied moan to escape your mouth. “Oh my god. This is amazing!”

He chuckled and reached over to pull off his own chunk. “Isn’t it?”

You nodded. “You’ll have to tell him to send some of this over more often!”

“I’m sure he’d have no issue with that. He’s always eager to share his cooking and he’s definitely been wanting to meet you. I’m sure that, if I told him you wanted some of his pumpkin bread, he wouldn’t hesitate to personally deliver some to you.” He popped some of it in his mouth.

You paused. “He wants to meet me?” you asked skeptically.

He nodded. “Steve does too. They’re anxious to meet the woman I’ve been seeing everyday. Don’t get me wrong, they know why I started to meet up with you, and they were a little ticked off that I started to do my own work without their permission, but they came around and now they won’t stop bugging me about bringing you to meet them.” He breathed a laugh and hung his head. “I told them that you’re not with me for that but they won’t listen and I can’t—”

“I’d love to,” you said cutting him off. You smiled at him. “I’d love to meet them.”

He blinked at you. “You would?”

You nodded. “I’ve always dreamed of meeting superheros. And now that I have my own personal hero who’s become one of my best friends, I don’t see why I wouldn’t.” You took another piece of the bread and ate it. “Mmm. Especially if they cook this well. You can sign me up for a meeting any day of the week.”

He smiled slightly. “Well, I know your schedule, so I’ll set it up for a time that you’re free.”

“Thanks.”

From there, you both fell into a comfortable silence. Sitting there and eating, you both enjoyed just being there in each others’ presence. But there was something sitting in the back of your head that itched at you. “Hey, Buck?”

“Hmm?”

You turned to glance at him. “What did you mean earlier when you said that you ‘knew from experience that having a nightmare can make you hungry?’”

“Oh…” He shrugged. “You know, when I got out of HYDRA, I’d have a lot of them. I’d dream about the things I did… The people I killed… I’d see them, every last one. I’d see the pain and terror on their faces when I did what I did. My therapist said that it was my brain processing the things that it did while recovering the memories and, well…” He took a shaky breath. “There were a lot of nights that I’d wake up screaming and crying, begging for them to forgive me. I know that what I did was unforgivable, but one can hope, right?” He laughed pathetically. “The short of it is that I know what it’s like to have a nightmare that felt so real that the sensations still linger on your skin even when you’re awake. I had Steve to rely on to comfort me after my bad ones and I wanted to be the one to comfort you. Paying it forward, y’know?”

“I know,” you murmured. “And I appreciate it. I’m glad that you came tonight.”

He bobbed his head. “I am too. It’s always nice to see you, (y/n), even when the conditions aren’t ideal.”

You chuckled. “Let’s be real. When are the conditions ever ideal?”

“You have me there.” He licked the pumpkin bread crumbs from his fingers and stood up. “Do you have glasses anywhere?”

You nodded and pointed towards the cup cabinet. “That one there. Pick any one you’d like. Except the Garfield mug. That’s my special cup.” 

He smirked. “I’m very tempted to take that one now.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Don’t you dare!”

“I’m just teasing you, doll.” He grabbed a clear plastic cup from the shelves and ran it under the tap. Turning back to face you, he leaned against the counter, his hips jutting out lazily as he lounged back. He lifted the glass up to his peachy lips, the light bouncing off the metal of his hand making the water inside shimmer and shine.

You could watch him like this for hours.

He paused in his drinking, cracking a smile at you. “You’re staring.”

“I am?”

“Yes. See something you like?”

You shrugged. “Hmm. Maybe.” You grinned. “Anyways. It’s far too late for you to be flying back to wherever you live so I’m sorry but you’ll just have to stay the night.”

He nodded. “I figured I would and that’s fine. I’ll just camp out on your couch for the night if that’s alright.”

“It should be fine. But, if it’s alright with you, I’ll probably join you.”

Bucky shook his head vigorously. “No. No I can’t ask that of you. You ought to enjoy the night in your own bed.”

You giggled. “One night’s not going to kill me, Buck. I’ll be fine.” You stood up from the island and walked over to the couch. You flicked on the television and queued up Netflix. “The apartment’s warm enough that we really shouldn’t need blankets, but I can get you a spare one if you want it.”

“No. I should be fine.” He turned off the kitchen lights and walked towards the couch. Sitting on the opposite side from you, he glanced at the T.V. “Can we watch  _ Stranger Things _ ?” he asked in an excited voice.

You nodded as you scooted over on the couch to lean against your armrest. “I don’t see why not.” You pulled up the show and started it from the first episode. You curled up on the armrest, as far away from Bucky as you could possibly be. You wanted to give him some space as you resisted the urge to scoot over and lie down against him.

Not even halfway into the episode, Bucky looked over at you. “You alright?” he asked with an amused smile.

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

He eyed you warily. “You don’t look too comfortable all the way over there.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated. 

He barked a laugh. “God, you’re an awful liar.” At your puzzled look, he lifted his arm to open up his side. “C’mere.”

You didn’t hesitate for long before you scaled the length of the couch and embedded yourself in his side. He was really warm. You wouldn’t have to worry about getting chilly in the night with him here. You hummed in content.

He chuckled, the sound causing his chest to vibrate beneath your head. “Better?” he asked in a whisper.

“Much,” you affirmed.

He smiled softly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tightly. “Good.”

The two of you sat there in a comfortable silence for over an episode and a half. Sometime into the second episode you got an idea and a nervous smile spread across your lips. You looked up at him through your lashes. “Hey, Bucky?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the television in front of you, but his arm tightened around your shoulders. “Yeah, doll?”

You bit your lip. “I was wondering if you…” You paused in thought as you tried to figure out a way to phrase your thoughts.

You had his attention now as he turned to look down at you. “If I…?” he prompted. A smirk sat comfortably on his lips as he watched you struggle with your words.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Shut up,” you mumbled, gently shoving him with your shoulder.

A small laugh escaped the back of his throat. “Alright, I’m sorry. What were you wondering?”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Chez Moi has a party every Christmas Eve for its employees and we get to bring a plus one. I’d take Joyce, but she said she’s getting tired of them after going to so many and God knows I can’t take Carrot so I was wondering if…”

“If I’d want to go with you?” he finished.

You nodded. “It’s a black tie affair. The restaurant rents out the grand ballroom of a really fancy hotel for the entire night and we all gather to drink, eat, and dance. It might be a little snobbish, but it’s a lot of fun and we enjoy being served instead of serving for the night. And, well, I don’t know who else I would want to go as my date.” You added that last part a little quietly as it made you flustered to say. 

He smiled softly. “I’d love to go.”

You looked up at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “It sounds like a lot of fun. I can’t imagine spending Christmas any other way.”

You hummed softly. “Well thank you. You’ve just made the party that much more bearable.”

“I’m glad I could be of service, Ma’am.”

“Ma’am? What happened to ‘(y/n)’ or ‘doll?’“

He chuckled. “I use ma’am when I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“But you’re always a gentleman,” you mused. 

“(y/n)?”

You looked up at him with heavy eyes. “Yeah?”

“You’re tired. Go to sleep.”

He was right. You were spent and, now, laying in his arms, it felt like the right time to go to sleep. “Alright, Bucky…” you murmured as you curled into his side. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said back.

You had to have fallen asleep shortly after or you were delusional because you could’ve sworn you’d heard him whisper a little “I love you” shortly after the goodnight.

But that was just nonsense.

Right?


End file.
